At the pet store we looked at the ferrets, rats, gerbils, turtles, and birds at a safe distance, and when I cashed out the boys were looking at a cat in a cage at the front of the store. I put my faith in the fact that the boys would be gentle with him. I remember reading once that an indicator of potential serial killing is the mistreatment of animals by children. They seemed safe. The cat's story was typed up on a piece of paper and the boys took turn touching him through the cage bars. The cashier asked me how old the boys were and the proceeded to tell me that he is still in touch with the F.A.K. that his Aunt sponsored 9 years before, and how the kid is now fighting in Iraq. The cashier stressed how important the program is for the community, the children and the family. I had a major flood of guilt and agreed with him and then slung the food on my shoulder and got the boys out.
The boys and I actually had a pretty good evening.
We got a packet today from the Fresh Air Fund, which should have come the week before F.A.K. arrived but came a week later. I felt like Adam Sandler in The Wedding Singer:
"Once again, information that would've been useful to me yesterday."
L and I agreed that we signed up for this. So be it.
We've had a rash of situations at the library of items returned stained or chewed, and the borrowers have been dumbfounded about having to pay for them. One thought that all our items were donated. I suggested to my boss that I visit the said person with a pot of coffee and spill it over one of her personal books that she bought, to see what kind of emotion that might provoke. I actually feel like doing that to people who litter. I would love to take a bag of my garbage to their yard and dump it, to make them understand that the world (and specifically my yard) is not their superfund site. I would feel fabulous doing so.